Rematch
by Sandrine Shaw
Summary: Tanner doesn't like losing, and neither does Harvey, but perhaps they can come to an agreement that benefits them both. Harvey/Travis.


**Rematch**  
by Sandrine Shaw

"I'm considering getting a restraining order against you," Harvey says conversationally as he slides onto the stool next to Tanner's, signaling at Cole the barkeeper to get him his usual. "First you come to my city, then my gym, and now my bar. This stalking habit of yours is clearly getting out of hand."

Tanner snorts, amused, and takes a sip from his glass. "You were the one who came to me at the gym. And you're the one sitting down next to me now. Uninvited, I might add."

He raises an eyebrow and Harvey offers him a smile that Donna has frequently told him makes him look utterly smug and insufferable. He makes a habit of only letting it come out when he's deliberately trying to be obnoxious. "Well, it's a free country. You're welcome to take your drink and go sit somewhere else if I'm bothering you."

Tanner's smile widens and he turns towards Harvey, clearly undeterred by the attitude Harvey is giving him. If Harvey is honest, it's part of the reason why he enjoys their verbal sparring, despite Tanner's tendency to hit below the belt. He won't let himself be cowered or charmed, unlike Louis or Mike or even Jessica, and Harvey appreciates it; it keeps him on his toes.

"I hear congratulations are in order. Apparently you kicked Hardman's ass out on the streets. Of course, you probably couldn't have done it without me."

"Oh, come off it," Harvey scoffs. "It's not like you told me anything I didn't know. You just made me realize that, contrary to what I thought, you hadn't been in on it with Hardman. And even then, I had to physically beat it out of you."

"Like you didn't enjoy that."

Harvey smirks at him. Truth be told, punching Tanner in the face, both in the office and then later in the boxing ring, is a rather fond memory. "Now that you mention it... yeah, I did."

"Just so you know, I want a rematch," Tanner warns him. At least Harvey thinks it's supposed to be a warning.

He nods his thanks at Cole, who puts a glass of single malt in front of him. Turning back towards Tanner, he shrugs. "If you think you can handle another beating, be my guest. Just name the time and I'll be there."

There's something shark-like about Tanner's smile, too confident for a man who had Harvey beat him every single time they clashed, be it with fists or in court.

"I'll give you a call."

He downs his whiskey and gets up, the bar stool squeaking as it moves over the floorboards. Cole reaches over to take the empty glass away and Tanner points towards Harvey. "Put it on his tab."

Harvey rolls his eyes. He doesn't object.

* * *

Tanner calls him up for that rematch on a Friday night after work. It's late and the gym is deserted. They open 24 hours, 7 days a week, but at ten thirty on a Friday most people are out drinking or partying or in bed next to their significant and not-so-significant others.

"Don't you have a social life?" Harvey asks when he's climbing into the ring through the ropes Tanner is holding up for him.

Tanner smirks. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Well, I did promise you a rematch, and I won't let it be said that Harvey Specter doesn't honor his promises." It's a fancy way of saying, _I had nothing better to do because the woman I was falling in love with left to take care of her dying brother's kid and my schedule was empty, so getting to punch you in the face seemed like a satisfying way to end my not entirely pleasant week._

"Does he, now?" Tanner taunts, and lunges.

It's unexpected and hits Harvey square in the jaw, making him stumble backwards. He tastes copper and swears under his breath, quickly bringing up his arms in defense, and when Tanner strikes again, Harvey is ready for him.

In the end, Harvey wins. They're pretty equally matched in terms of skill, but Harvey is just a little more willing to push on rather than admit defeat. Tanner may be hungry for the win, but Harvey is dead set on _not losing_, and that makes all the difference

"Good fight," Tanner tells him later in the locker room, freshly out of the shower with a dark blue towel wrapped around his hips and another rolled up and slung around his shoulders, the naked skin of his arms and torso still glistening wet. He's holding Harvey's gaze as he wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb. It comes away tinted red.

_I did this_, Harvey thinks, _I made him bleed_, and the thought makes his blood pulse in an odd rush of emotions, a heady mix of pride and arousal and regret and victory and shame. He wants to gloat as much as he wants to apologize, so he shuts up and contents himself with nodding, watching Tanner as he steps closer, bridging the distance between them with a smile that's too victorious for someone who just lost a fight.

Tanner pushes him back against the lockers, leaning in, and just before his mouth comes down hard and unforgiving against Harvey's, Harvey thinks that perhaps he should be more surprised. But if he's honest with himself, they've been heading towards this for a while now, probably since the first time Tanner stepped into his office, all swagger and confidence and threats.

Still, it took balls for Tanner to make that first step, and Harvey respects him for it. Doesn't mean he's going to let Tanner keep calling the shots.

He spins them around, and Tanner's back hits the metal door of the lockers with a thud that echoes through the empty room.

Tanner laughs, and Harvey kisses him until he tastes blood.

* * *

It's Tanner who suggests getting drinks, and even though it sounds entirely casual, something in Harvey bristles at the invitation.

"Let me make something clear," he says, shutting the locker door with maybe a little too much force. "We're not friends. We're not going to be friends. Ever."

Tanner chuckles in a way that implies that the idea is nothing short of ridiculous. "Really, Harv, do you honestly believe that I have even the slightest interest in being friends with you? You're just about the last person I would want as my _friend_."

"Just so we're on the same page," Harvey says levelly, his smile not entirely pleasant.

"Was that a no to the drink, then?"

Having a drink together seems oddly inappropriate and too personal, but their entire history has been inappropriate and too personal. Tanner just jerked him off, for fuck's sake, and Harvey decides that if he didn't have to like Tanner to have sex with him, he probably also doesn't have to like him to share a drink.

"You're paying," he demands, and tries not to take the other man's smirk as a sign that he just conceded anything.

* * *

"Someone's in a good mood," Donna says on Monday morning, hopping onto his desk and looking at him expectedly. "Had a good weekend?"

Harvey frowns a little, trying to discourage her enthusiasm. "It wasn't a _bad_ weekend. Nothing worth getting you so excited."

"I'm just saying you seem very cheerful this morning."

He shrugs and tells himself that it's all right as long as all that perceived cheerfulness is all about getting to beat up Tanner and not so much about the spectacular semi-public sex they had afterwards.

"Well, anyway, I'm afraid I will have to ruin your cheer because you have a new case," Donna tells him, producing a file from under where she's currently perched on the desk. "And you're not going to like who's representing the claimant."

A slow smile stretches Harvey's lips. "Don't tell me. Smith & Devane's finest?"

Donna's expression turns suspicious. "I wouldn't know about the _finest_ part, but if you're thinking about Tanner, you got it in one. What's that to be so happy about?"

"It's another chance to give the smug little shit a run for his money. What's not to be happy about? Now shoo, I have a case to prepare."

* * *

Harvey doesn't make a habit of sleeping with opposing counsel, not even after he wiped the floor with them in the courtroom. Contrary to popular belief he does try to keep his personal and his professional life separate, but where Tanner is concerned that ship has sailed a long time ago.

Still, when Tanner pauses at Harvey's desk after the judge has dismissed them, an angry tightness around his jaw and a disconcerting glint in his eyes, Harvey remembers that there was a reason for his rule.

Tanner holds out his hand to shake, his grip a little too punishing to be congratulatory, and he leans in and says, "Tonight, 9 o'clock, your place."

Harvey wants to say no. He _should_.

"Make it your place and it's a date," is what actually comes out of his mouth, however, and he hides his uneasiness behind a smirk. He tells himself that if they're not in his home, at least he can just walk out when things go south.

"Don't be late," Tanner says tersely, and then he's gone.

* * *

Harvey regrets suggesting to meet at Tanner's apartment when he stands at the door, fist poised to knock, feeling oddly wrong-footed. It occurs to him that in agreeing to meet Tanner on his own turf, he's forfeit the chance of being the one in control of their encounter, and he hates the idea.

The door opens and Tanner is leaning faux-casually against the frame, his tie undone and his shirt half-unbuttoned. Harvey knows that look – he _invented_ that look, used it to welcome people at his own door when he wanted to seduce or unbalance them, and there's the problem: he isn't sure which one Tanner is aiming for with him.

He steps inside and accepts Tanner's offer of a drink, watching him pour two glasses of expensive Scotch.

Their fingers touch when Tanner hands him the glass, and Harvey isn't sure if it's an accident or deliberate. It's hard to read Tanner on a regular day, and close to impossible now – the man is entirely too good to hide behind a blandly smiling mask of pleasant nonchalance, possibly even better than Harvey is.

But he knows that Tanner was angry today at court, and he knows he can't run the risk of having that anger spill over into their personal lives, because then all their legal battles are going to grow increasingly personal in turn and at some point it's going to spiral out of control.

He perches on the armrest of Tanner's spotless white leather couch without waiting for an invitation and puts his glass down on the coffee table. "Look, Travis, about today. If you can't handle losing to me, we should either call this off or you need to stop taking cases where you'll go against me, because you'll be losing a lot."

Tanner ducks his head and chuckles, and it might be fake, but there seems to be genuine humor crinkling his eyes. "You really believe that, don't you, Harvey? Tell you what – the first time I win, I'll come to your office after and fuck you against that ridiculous huge window. Maybe I'll even leave the comm open so your pretty redhead secretary will hear you scream my name."

"Not going to happen," Harvey says with firm finality, and when Tanner raises his eyebrow like it's a dare, he adds, "Because I'm not going to lose."

"Keep telling yourself that." Tanner reaches down to undo Harvey's belt, accidentally on purpose brushing against Harvey's cock, which has been hard since the moment Tanner mentioned fucking him in the office, or possibly since he opened the door and let Harvey in. "And just so you know, I can handle losing. I don't like it, and I'll make sure it's not going to happen again, but it's not going to change anything."

"Right. Because you've never made things personal in the past?" Harvey says, thinking about the way Travis kept challenging him right from the start, about how he did his best to get Harvey disbarred over the Coastal Motors case, and how he seemed entirely too bitter and personally offended when he shoved the settlement agreement at Harvey.

"Oh, my mistake. I guess you don't want a congratulatory blow job then?" He raises his eyebrow and smoothly goes down on his knees in front of Harvey, expensive dress pants wrinkling when he hits the floor. He doesn't bother to wait for Harvey's answer, just pushes his briefs out of the way and fits his mouth over Harvey's cock.

It's a sight to behold, and Harvey has to bite his lips to stop an embarrassing sound from coming out. His hand tangles in Tanner's hair.

"I _love_ winning against you," he groans and feels the vibrations of Tanner's laughter around his cock.

Tanner pulls away and leans up, swollen lips brushing briefly against Harvey's mouth, his cheek, the rough catch of his stubble before settling against his ear. "I'm going to make you love losing against me just as much," he whispers, making it sound like a dirty secret that goes straight to Harvey's groin.

He fights to keep his composure and tightens his hand around the back of Tanner's head, pulling him away until they're eye to eye again.

"Dream on. I'm still the best closer in town. Losing isn't something I do." Tanner's eyes flash dangerously and Harvey leans in to shut him up with a kiss before he can object.

"But perhaps I'll let you fuck me in my office anyway," he says when he pulls back, smirking. "I have to admit, I rather like the idea."

Tanner is a cheeky bastard who always needs to have the last word, so it doesn't surprise Harvey in the least that he finds himself pushed backwards until he's sprawled across the couch and Tanner stands over him with a grin on his face, his voice rough and out of breath when he drawls, "Looks like we have a deal."

End.


End file.
